The palazzo's throne room, once a tomb of secrets, now shimmered with soft candlelight and political tension.
Aurelia sat poised on a velvet-backed chair beside Lucien, her presence radiant yet guarded. Her new title, La Regina di Magia e Sangue the Queen of Magic and Blood echoed through the underworld like a bell of revolution. To many, she was a symbol of power restored. To others, she was a threat stitched into silk and seer's blood.
Lucien leaned toward her, whispering under his breath. "You don't need to answer everything. Let them squirm a little."
Aurelia didn't smile. "Let them know I'm not here to be ornamental."
A council of dons sat before them, their gazes sharp, their rings heavier than their promises. Among them: Don Casella, the oldest and most dangerous of the traditionalists, a relic of the days before magic became currency.
"I speak for many," he said, voice oily, "when I ask how can we be led by someone who was not born of our blood?"
Lucien's jaw clenched. Aurelia raised a hand.
"I was born of blood older than yours, Don Casella," she said, her voice like velvet laced with steel. "The Moretti line predates this council by centuries. It is my blood that kept your shadows in check when the spirit wars came."
A murmur passed through the room.
"Power," she continued, "is not granted by bloodlines alone, but by what you do when fire comes knocking. And I... I walked through fire and returned with your Sovereign."
Lucien looked at her with something close to awe. Aurelia felt her heart beat, steady and firm. She was no longer just a bride. No longer a pawn.
She was becoming queen.
Outside the chamber, Soraya paced the corridor, her pistol hidden beneath a velvet cloak. Matteo leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"She's holding her own," Soraya muttered. Matteo smirked. "And you doubted her."
"I doubted everyone. That's why I'm still alive."
Later that night, in their private quarters, Lucien poured two glasses of dark amarone.
"You burned them," he said approvingly, handing her a glass.
Aurelia took it but didn't sip. Her fingers trembled faintly.
"I'm tired of fighting for every breath," she admitted. "Even now, I feel the spellwork beneath their skin. They want me gone."
Lucien touched her chin, gently. "Then we rule harder. Together."
She finally looked at him the man who once claimed her like a prize. But now... he was the only one who truly stood beside her.
Aurelia lowered her voice. "They think I'm pregnant."
Lucien froze. The room stilled with him. "Are you?"
She shook her head. "Not yet."
He exhaled, slowly. "Then let's keep it that way. Not until we're ready."
But neither of them saw the soft flicker of a scrying mirror behind the curtain or the faint whisper that slid through the room like a sigh:
"She must not bear the heir. Or the prophecy begins."